


Ocean Wave

by templorandom



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: But anyone can read, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, One Shot, Opposites Attract, POC Reader, Reader-Insert, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templorandom/pseuds/templorandom
Summary: You work as a bookkeeper for Shelby Company Ltd. Michael and Isaiah are quite observant of you, despite your unassuming nature, and it leads to something unexpected.





	Ocean Wave

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I think Jordan Bolger is so beautiful, and I don't think Isaiah Jesus or his dad got enough screen time on Peaky Blinders. So here is my little contribution to the Isaiah Jesus fandom, because he deserves more attention. Also, shout out to @peakynsfw on tumblr, because I read a drabble they wrote about Isaiah which inspired this, so go check out their tumblr and give them likes and comments.

"That one doesn't like me very much."  
  
Isaiah raised his head, following Michael's gaze toward you. He bit back a smile, watching as you scribbled in one of the books.  
  
"She likes you fine," he stated to his friend, adjusting his tie.  
  
Michael turned to him, blowing smoke out of his mouth. "You should see the looks she gives me when I talk to her. Watch."  
  
He strode over to you slowly, and Isaiah followed, curious to see what would unfold. You kept your head down as they approached, eyes flitting back and forth over the penciled page.  
  
"Can I help you with something, Mr. Gray?" you asked, glancing at him quickly before your gaze returned to the desk. Your voice was level. Formal. It held not an ounce of emotion, and it made Isaiah smile for real this time.  
  
"No, Y/N. We just thought we would keep you company," Michael responded. His own eyes roamed over you, curious and just a bit darker in your presence.  
  
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Gray," you responded, still lacking any sort of warmth. Michael gave Isaiah a pointed look which said, _See? What did I tell you?_  
  
"Why don't you come 'round the pub with us, Y/N?" Isaiah asked suddenly. You paused for just a second, biting your lip, and then continued summing up numbers in the book.  
  
"I have to finish this, Mr. Jesus. Mr. Shelby will wring my neck if I don't," you replied. Isaiah noticed you didn't seem as cold toward him as you did with Michael, and it pleased him more than a little.  
  
"We can wait," he told you, giving you a soft smirk.  
  
You glanced at him then, averting your gaze quickly. "20 minutes," you told them, scribbling away.  
  
Isaiah remembered the day you came to work for the Shelbys. Two years ago, you came to the family, quiet and aloof, saying you were looking for honest work.  
  
_I'm smart. I'm good with numbers. You have a legitimate business, and I can keep it that way_, you'd said to Tommy, your eyes resolute as you stood in his office in front of everyone.  
  
Isaiah had noticed it immediately, how unafraid you seemed. He'd liked that. Most people feared him, or wanted something from Tommy. And you did too, of course.  
  
You wanted to work.  
  
And you'd proved how valuable your mind was. The books were always clean and organized; you personally checking them two, three, four times to make sure. There were even times Isaiah would find you in the clothes you'd worn the day before, evidence of you working through the night.  
  
You closed the book carefully after twenty minutes, tidying your desk and gathering you things.  
  
"Okay," you muttered, slipping on your coat. "Let's go."

* * *

  
You sat between him and Michael, sipping from your glass occasionally. Isaiah could smell your perfume-something soft and floral, slightly powdery-and he kept turning his head to you discreetly, trying to catch it over and over again.  
  
This was the closest he had ever been to you, and it made his heart beat rapidly in his chest. He normally chased after more lively women-overtly beautiful and reciprocal in his flirtation. They were wonderful, a pleasure in which he steadily indulged.  
  
You, though. There was a tranquil fierceness about you that drew him in, and he hadn't realized it until recently. Perhaps you didn't paint your lips or snort cocaine and dance on tables. That was always fun, of course. But when you were around, you were like an ocean wave- serene, with the suggestion of power underneath.  
  
Isaiah's attention just zeroed in when you were near, and it was happening now. You tapped your finger on the wood of the table, then trailed it across the rim of your glass. His eyes followed your every movement, as if hypnotized.  
  
"Y/N! What are you doing here?" Finn asked, appearing suddenly.  
  
You smiled at the boy, resting your hand under your chin. "Why are you so surprised?"  
  
"Well, I've never seen you here before," he stated, eyes squinting as he smiled back.  
  
"You've never invited me," you quipped, tilting your head.  
  
"We beat you to it," Michael said to his cousin, leaning forward to look at you. Your eyes flit to the side quickly before returning to Finn, the smirk on your face intact.  
  
He laughed as he walked farther into the pub, and you watched him go. "He looks just like Ada. Same nose," you commented, leaning back into the booth.  
  
"Not as mouthy," Michael stated, exhaling smoke. At that, you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the gesture by closing your lids and sipping your drink again. Isaiah chuckled under his breath, sipping from his own glass.  
  
"Why _don't_ you ever come to the pub, Y/N?" he asked, leaning back into the booth as well. Your shoulder raised a bit, and they both watched you, waiting for your response.  
  
"I'm just busy, is all," was what you told them. "You lot can't enjoy the pub if I don't make sure the numbers are all good, right?"  
  
"That doesn't mean you can't join us," Michael offered, his eyes never straying from you.  
  
"I'm joining you now, aren't I?" you said, turning your head toward him. Your voice still held that formal quality you favored when you spoke to Michael, but there was something else. A clear challenge in your words. And it made Isaiah's stomach flip in excitement.  
  
Michael looked you up and down, an odd mix of admiration and disdain painting his features. You, of course, were as cool as ever, refusing to let his gaze unnerve you.

* * *

  
"You didn't have to walk me home, Mr. Jesus."  
  
Isaiah snorted softly. "It's dark out, Y/N. I wasn't about to let you walk alone in these streets. I live this way, anyway," he told you.  
  
You were silent for a moment, before nodding. "Thank you, Mr. Jesus."  
  
"Stop that."  
  
Your eyebrows raised. "Stop what?"  
  
"Calling me that," he clarified. "Just call me Isaiah."  
  
"Okay, M-Isaiah..." you trailed off, blinking rapidly. He laughed softly, ducking his head. You turned a bit and laughed as well, biting your lip.  
  
When you'd finally made it to your front door, you searched for your keys, undoing the lock quickly. You turned to thank him again and he was right at your back, staring down at you.  
  
"Can I come in?" he asked, glancing over your shoulder to peek inside.  
  
Your brow furrowed. He looked back at you and watched as various emotions crossed your face.  
  
"A cuppa would be nice," he suggested. "Warm me up before I walk back home."  
  
You were nodding. "Okay," you said to the ground, pushing the door open to let him in. Your place was small, but very clean and comfortable. He liked it immediately.  
  
You removed your coat, and hung it on the rack, reaching a hand out to take his. He gave it to you and sat on the couch, eyes on you as you walked quietly to the kitchen. Sounds of water and metal clinking reached his ears, and after a while, you came back into the living room, two warm saucers in hand.  
  
You placed one in front of him gently, then sat next to him on the couch. Not nearly as close as you were in the pub, to his dismay. Isaiah sipped the milky liquid, the warmth making him feel even more at ease.  
  
"You don't like Michael very much, do you?" he asked suddenly. You froze, then finished your sip and set the saucer on the table in front of you.  
  
"What gave you that idea?" you asked, as formal as ever.  
  
"I see the way you act around him," Isaiah explained. "You're cold. And I saw you roll your eyes at him at the pub. You thought you were being sneaky, but I caught you."  
  
You pursed your lips, trying not to smile. "Isaiah," you began, and he really liked the way you said his name. "Please promise you won't repeat what I am about to tell you."  
  
"I promise," he stated, nodding once.  
  
"You have to swear," you insisted, turning to him with a serious look on your face. "I don't want to risk losing my job."  
  
He stared back at you. "I swear, on my father's life, on my own life, as a member of the Peaky Blinders, I will tell no one."  
  
You held his gaze for what seemed like forever, the silence between you heavy.  
  
"I can't stand him."  
  
Isaiah burst out laughing, and you looked relieved, giggling softly. "I know he's your friend, and he's Miss Polly's son. And I love that woman like she was me own ma. But Michael is just so arrogant. He really does my head in."  
  
Isaiah could hear a tinge of your accent coming through, enjoying the smooth roll of your voice. He watched you as his laughter receded, a warmth spreading in his chest that he knew wasn't from the tea.  
  
"He is a right prick," he agreed, nodding. "But I do love him. I know he'd do anything for me, just like I would for him. You don't have to love him though."  
  
"Good," you stated, nodding haughtily. "'Cause I don't."  
  
Isaiah laughed again, leaning his shoulder against yours. He heard you chuckle again before rising to clear the saucers. You made your way to the kitchen and after a moment, sitting and contemplating the night, he followed you.  
  
You were humming a tune as you cleaned, your tone sweet and vibrating. He walked right up behind you and when you turned, he lowered his mouth to yours, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.  
  
A noise rose from your throat, hesitant and surprised. You pulled away slightly to blink up at him, your mouth agape.  
  
He gripped your waist, leaning down again to kiss you and you let him, still looking a bit confused.  
  
"Have you never been with anyone before?" Isaiah asked softly, pecking at your lips.  
  
"I have, I just-"  
  
_Who?_ he wanted to ask. He had no right to be jealous. He had no claim over you. But he was anyway.  
  
"I wasn't expecting you to..."  
  
"To what?" he questioned, staring down at you.  
  
"I've seen the women you speak to, you and Michael," you stated. "I'm not as cultured as they seem, not as..."  
  
Isaiah laughed, leaning into your neck. "Is that so bad? They have their own thing. You have yours. I can like both."  
  
You exhaled, turning to him slightly. "I suppose that's true."  
  
He searched your face. "It's okay if you don't want to. I can just leave."  
  
"No," you said immediately, shaking your head.  
  
"Let's go upstairs."

* * *

  
Your room was just as neat as it was everywhere else. It smelled like you as well, that floral scent permeating the space.  
  
You moved inside and turned on the lamp near your bed. A soft glow washed over everything, and you sat, eyes cast downward.  
  
Isaiah smiled at your reserve. "Sometimes it's hard to tell what you're thinking, Y/N."  
  
You blinked at his words, but said nothing. Standing, you unclasped your skirt carefully, then removed your blouse. You stood in nothing but your undergarments, looking soft and feminine.  
  
Isaiah wasn't sure what you'd looked like truly, thought it wasn't as if he didn't wonder. Your clothing was always as stylish as you could afford, but modest. Never flashy or attention seeking. It was understated-perfectly you.  
  
But seeing you now, smooth skin on display, got his heart racing again. He removed his waistcoat, eyes never straying from your figure. Approaching you, he gripped your waist again, thumbs kneading at you softly. You placed your hands on his chest and stood on your toes to reach his mouth.  
  
His hands traveled upward, pulling down the straps at your shoulders. You shimmied out of the material, now completely naked in front of him.  
  
You stood there, staring back at him as assured as ever. Isaiah drank you in, the sweeps and curves of your body making his blood rush. He removed his shirt quickly, hurrying to grip at you again.  
  
He lowered you to your bed, covering your frame with his own. "I can't believe I waited this long," he whispered, kissing your lips hungrily.  
  
You laughed into his mouth. "I still don't see why I would catch your attention. You have your pick of beautiful women."  
  
"Y/N," he began, "for someone so smart, you really can be dense."  
  
You frowned at his comment, and he smirked, undoing the buttons on his trousers to pull them off. Your hands found his face as he undressed and he kissed your palms, lips warm and soft against your skin.  
  
Isaiah wrapped a strong arm around your waist, lifting you further up the bed. Your eyes widened, surprised at how easily he maneuvered you. He smiled down at you as he ran his hands down your sides, trailing them along your thighs until one dove between your legs.  
  
Your features softened as his fingers explored you, the two of you staring at nothing but each other. A shudder ran through your body as he slid a finger inside you, and a small smile crossed his lips when he noticed you grip the sheets tightly.  
  
He slid his finger out slowly, then another joined as he moved back in. You let out a small whimper, still staring as you shook.  
  
"You're soaked," he whispered, his dark eyes moving to the space where his hand disappeared. His thumb pressed down, circling that place above your entrance, and you keened, breath shallow as you started to lose control of your body.  
  
Isaiah's fingers moved in synchrony, within and without your body, and you were loving it. You gasped quietly, no longer able to hold his gaze. His fingers moved faster, making you moan louder, getting you close to your release.  
  
He pulled away suddenly, and you opened you eyes. You looked slightly annoyed, but he simply smiled, pulling off the rest of his garments quickly.  
  
He was above you again, grasping your thighs to pull you closer. You looked down as he gripped himself, then your eyes met his again, steady and waiting.  
  
Pushing into you slowly, Isaiah watched as your back arched off the bed. He could hear your breath, quick and shallow again, but barely paid it mind. You were so warm, your walls so snug around him, and he exhaled deeply, closing his eyes.  
  
He felt you shift under him, slide farther along his length, and then you clenched around him, hips wiggling. His body shook at the motion and he opened his eyes, giving you an incredulous look. You simply stared back at him, that calm look never leaving your face.  
  
A smirk grew across his lips and he reached for you, holding you down as he started to move. He slid in and out of you, your slick coating him completely. You gasped and whined under him softly, your body trying to move along with his, but he held you tighter, thrusting into you even more vigorously.  
  
You let out another moan- this one louder and much more lewd- and Isaiah felt a shiver run down his back at the sound. He wrapped one of your legs around his waist, and got a better grip, his hands almost spanning the entirety of you. His motions became more intentional, languid and winding and filling.  
  
You kept moaning, a sob or two slipping in. "Y-yes, that feels-amazing," you stuttered. Isaiah watched you, your chest bouncing as he slid in and out of you, hair no longer neatly curled and pinned.  
  
He bit his lip at the sight of you, so unrestrained. You looked like a goddess, skin glowing in the soft light. He grunted as he thrust harder, a tingling feeling pooling in his stomach. You howled as he sped up again, grasping at him where he held you.  
  
Your voice got higher, and your body started to move along with his, despite his hold on you. He felt you clench around him once, and then you were humming and sighing, squeezing at him relentlessly as you found your release.  
  
"Fuck, Y/N," he sighed, watching as more of your slick poured out of you. Your body held him tight, and suddenly you reached between your legs, your hands cradling his length every time he pulled out of you. Twisting your hands after each slide, you writhed your hips rhythmically, helping him chase his own high.  
  
Isaiah felt his body spasm, and he dug his fingers into you harshly as he released into you. He breathed deeply, trying to fill his lungs, then lowered himself to lie over you, still nestled inside you. Your skin stuck to his, sticky with sweat, but his kissed at your neck anyway.  
  
"I can't wait to see the look on Michael's face when I tell him," Isaiah whispered.  
  
"You better not. You swore, Isaiah."  
  
"I swore I wouldn't tell him that you didn't like him. I never said I wouldn't tell him I was in your bed."  
  
"If you tell him, you won't be invited back," you warned, shifting to look at him.  
  
He smiled. "So you were planning on having me back?"  
  
"Only if you keep your mouth shut."  
  
Isaiah nuzzled into you, closing his eyes. "I think I can do that."


End file.
